


Damn Witch-Elves

by TourmalineQueen



Series: Rozenn the Breton [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Galmar explains his prejudice, Rozenn and Galmar have a Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 10:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20375566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Written for the Skyrim Kinkmeme.Original Prompt: It's pretty much a given that everyone loathes the Thalmor. They're just so exceptionally loathsome. And the whole genocidal racists with a side order of torture, religious persecution, and plain old smug superiority thing makes it easy to see why.But various people have highly personal reasons for hating them, too. We all know Ulfric hates them because they brutalized him, and Malborn hates them because they killed his family. What about other NPCs? I'm happy to hear about anyone (and I do mean anyone, from people like Tullius or Galmar to people who wouldn't normally seem to have much to do with the Civil War and the Thalmor, like Kharjo or Keerava or even one of the children). Or what about your Dragonborn - what was that moment that made them go from "Oh yeah, the Thalmor, very bad folks" to "OH NOW IT'S ON AND IT'S PERSONAL?"Just tell me why, specifically, various Skyrim characters want to punch and/or stab every justiciar they see in his or her smug face.





	Damn Witch-Elves

Rozenn stretched her arms over her head, arching her back like a cat under the heavy bedclothes as she wakened lazily. Galmar, used to such acrobatics, dozed lightly, a small smile gracing his hard features. Rozenn rolled onto her side and snuggled up against her husband, slipping one hand in between his, and letting the other rest on her slightly rounded belly.

"Hmm," she murmured contentedly. "Galmar."

Her husband grunted, shutting his eyes firmly.

"Galmar, my love, we need to talk," Rozenn persisted, walking two fingers up and down his chest.

"No we don't, we need to go back to sleep," Galmar replied, eyes still shut.

Rozenn laughed lightly and kissed his pectoral, before shifting so she could hook one leg over his waist - skilfully keeping the duvet and fur pelt on top of her as she did so. Galmar opened one eye and watched her, assessing her. Rozenn smiled triumphantly, and poked him in the sternum.

"I knew you weren't asleep," she crowed.

"Part of me wasn't," Galmar muttered grudgingly. "Now you've gone and woken the rest of me."

"We need to talk," she said again, seriously.

"About?"

Rozenn lay down again, lying half on top of him, until he pulled her more comfortably against his body, tucking her head under his chin.

"Why will you not come to Winterhold with me? Ulfric can spare you, now that most of the Empire's pockets of resistance have been dealt with. And..." Rozenn trailed off.

"And?" Galmar prodded.

"And... I'm afraid I won't know what to say to Collette, or that I'll ask the wrong questions, or she'll tell me I'm too small, or-"

Galmar quelled her litany of fears with a quick kiss. A quick kiss that developed into a distracting, lengthy, _interesting_ kiss.

"You're a clever girl, for all you're a Breton," he teased, once they had regained their breath. "You could almost be a Nord girl, you're that quick on the uptake. I'm sure you'll know what to say to your mage friend."

"Thank you, my love," Rozenn said dryly, aiming a sharp elbow in retaliation. "At least the Dragonborn will never get a big head from being called a legend at home. Galmar, please? I'd really prefer it if you were with me."

"I. Don't. Like. Mages. And you want to bring me into a den of them. No, wife, I will not go," Galmar replied, turning over and sitting on the edge of the bed.

Rozenn slid off him and sat upright against the pillows, knees drawn up to her chin.

"What have you got against mages, love? In case you'd forgotten I _am_ a spellsword by trade," she pointed out, feeling slightly forlorn. 

"Hmmph. Told you - you're different. Not a mage like those- those Thalmor Witch-Elves," Galmar said darkly.

"Thalm - the Justiciars?"

"And their predecessors. You'd be too young to remember the Great War," Galmar said dismissively.

"Not so," Rozenn corrected him. "I remember our whole family had to leave our home in the Imperial City late at night, because Grandfather had pointed eartips. The fact that we had nothing to do with the Thalmor meant little - because some of us looked like we had Altmers in our ancestry. I was maybe four or five years of age."

"Where did you go?" Galmar asked, keeping his back to her.

"Anvil, on the western coast, and you're trying to distract me from the question," Rozenn pointed out.

Galmar gave an unamused bark of laughter. "Can't get away with anything around you, can I?"

"I need to know this, Galmar. If our child takes after me, and has a gift for magecraft, will you hate them? Will you mistrust me as you do the Mages' College? Of which I am Archmage, may I remind you?"

Galmar stood, and paced the room like a caged animal for a long minute, occasionally stopping to run a finger over a weapon or shield on a plaque, before he took a deep, fortifying breath and turned back to face his wife.

"You truly need to know, don't you?"

Rozenn nodded once.

"Alright, fine. Although I'm not happy about this. I don't think you should know about these things," Galmar said, returning to the bed, and sitting, stretched out beside Rozenn, wrapping an arm about her and pulling her close against his side.

"_Should_ is not a part of my vocabulary, husband dear. Now tell me." 

Rozenn let herself fall against her husband, resting her forehead on his shoulder.

"This is nice," Galmar commented.

"Tell me!" Rozenn barked irritably.

"Alright, alright! Damn uppity Breton."

"I love you, too, Bear Man," Rozenn murmured.

Galmar chuckled and settled back. "Hwæt. In the Great War against the Aldmeri Dominion, Ulfric and I fought in the Imperial Legion. We saw many battles, much bloodshed, and terrible waste of life. But such things happen in war, these things each person can and must deal with in their own way. If they are not natural in the everyday, they are certainly natural to war, and if you cannot deal with them the war deals with you."

Rozenn squeezed Galmar's waist. Galmar made no indication that he felt it.

"What was unnatural in the Great War was the Altmer themselves. Those damnable, thrice-cursed witch-elves were the most unnatural fighters I have ever seen. An honourable enemy attacks with blades and shields. Maybe flames and icy spears, if they are so inclined."

"Not so the Dominion?"

"Not so the Dominion," Galmar agreed. "Those witch-elves were necromancers. They attacked us with Bound weapon in one hand and in the other a spell designed to turn our fallen against us. I remember one vicious encounter, where few Imperials fell, so the Dominion warmages felled their own to raise against us. 

They _killed their own brothers-in-arms_ so they could bring their corpses to bear on us like they weren't Shield-Brothers, but simply weapons, or fodder for our artillery: _things_ to slow us down or frighten us, not people in their own right. 

"Ulfric wonders sometimes why I am so staunch in my support of him. Of course I believe he will do right by Skyrim, but also I cannot bear the thought that if the Dominion takes us for soldiers, will they see us as more useful dead than alive? I cannot trust another necro-mage having seen what they did to our dead and their own, wife. It - it isn't natural."

"Nor is it right. Necromancy is a simple thing to do, but so difficult to do it _right_. It is a branch of magic I am unfamiliar with by my own choice. I may change my mind in future, my love, I hope you realise that. And if I do it will be done properly, and not with the intent of the Thalmor that you met in battle. But, you must remember, too, husband, not all mages are necromancers, and not all necromancers are evil," Rozenn replied, hugging him for all she was worth.

Galmar nodded. True enough, I suppose. You are evidence enough of that. But I will never like it."

"You don't have to."

"Not even if you ... _change your mind_ and take it up?"

"If I so choose I will do everything in my power to keep that part of my magic as far from you as possible," Rozenn replied, placing one hand palm flat over her heart and the other palm down over her husband's heart, making a solemn vow.


End file.
